The Art of Hunting
by Hound of Tindalos
Summary: What happens when a Yautja meets something just as alien as he? The name Ti'Kon is not mine, it was borrowed from blacktalon117 from their delightful story Ooman. I do not own Predator but I do own the individually named Predators, aside from Ti'Kon, and the hybrid. Rated M for swearing, violence and possible alien on alien
1. No Name

Art of Hunting

Humans have been hunted for as long as they have been worthy prey which, as they evolved, became a more elite sport.

Why would oomans fog up this tube? My hand touched the cool plastic material, pulling back in surprise when a smaller, more delicate hand slammed against the wall of the container. Half my size but long, thick claws proved that this creature was a hunter like myself. With my mask I could make out the profile of the resident inside. It appeared to be an ooman female, a malnourished one at that, but its body chemistry proved to have very little resemblance to a oomans. A murmuring noise, my shocked reaction hidden by my mask.

"Help me."Speaking my own language so perfectly without tusks and mandibles to punctuate the clicks. A reminder beeped on my wrist computer that my ship was prepped and ready to launch which drew me back a few steps to return. I paused, once more eying the thing in the tube. Spoils of war? A logical answer to the Elders. A high screeching tears at my ears as it claws at the inside of the container, hissing its frustration.

Well…perhaps I could hunt it.

A single well-aimed hit from my plasmacaster shattered the container and it tumbled out, coughing and wheezing at the clean air. Crouching by it, the neuro-gas leaking out from the container had subdued it, I examined its form and, despite its unconscious state, its claws flexed as I drew near.

I am no Healer but it appears, even to me, that this strange creature is a hybrid of sorts. Such things are loathed in my clan but, once again, it could prove to be good sport. Despite its impressive size I still towered a head and a half, or more, above it but it had been a giant among oomans. From a scientific point of view it — she as I soon found it to be — was going to be a specimen creditable of study.

Now that I could have a good look at it, her, I could understand the heavy restraints put upon this creature. Whatever had been bred with her DNA had created something that, from its muscle mass, was as strong as I and the structure of her bones was unnerving. Rather like gel than actual solid bone made to absorb impact and bend impossibly as well as creating a light, highly dense form. She, after parting her lips with a claw, had a rather ooman face with a nose and lips, the teeth inside were remarkable and nearly translucent in color. A bite could surely tear muscle from bone but it was disappointing that she looked like an ooman.

Shaped like an ooman female, soft and pliable beneath my hands, but instead of a mane she sported a grooved head of thin spines that were rather similar to my own. Stopping at the nap of her slender neck these spines lifted and flexed as if entirely sentient while mine hung just past my shoulders, each tube-like hair wrapped in gold and silver rings.

Feet that took after my own with long claws but larger than mine, similar to a raptor or a reptile, small smooth scales on each sinister toe. The big toe had an exaggerated claw that was held up off the ground like a sickle, working like that of a switchblade. While my own body was covered in pebbly mottled scales she was smooth except for her hands, feet, head and a thin line of spikes jutting out of her spine.

A somewhat pretty thing, skin the color of ash and brilliant lips of amber; I parted those lips once more to study her tongue. Sadly human except for its length when those teeth snapped shut on my claw, clipping the sharp tip off as neatly as a shears. Eyes of fire, flaring violent orange as she strained against her manacles, every muscle in her flexing as I touched the neat cut of my claw.

Minutes slipped by before she became still, eyes moving rapidly over the medical bay then back to me, sizing me up as a threat. I was expecting harsh words, snarls when a wide smile pulled those lips back and bared long, clear teeth.

_"__You are one ugly motherfucker."_ I understood basic ooman language and the overall gist of this caused my mane to bristle, increasing my goliath size. Growling I spread my mandibles and bared my teeth, I took great pride in my body and my past mates had as well.

We stood seven feet tall, at the smallest, broad of shoulder and thick of arm and thigh, like tree trunks. Our scales natural armor that caused us to shrug off bullet wounds, our blood ran green from copper and our senses were highly superior to oomans. Even if our vision was based off thermal signals our sense of smell could tell the slightest changes of environment and our hearing, in spite of our lack of external ears, was exceptional.

My scars, the deep gouges that littered my body, were my pride and joy as I knew every story behind each one from the bites on my shoulders to the bullet holes on my highly defined pectorals.

To the females of my kind, who stood yet a head taller than the males, I was beautiful and more than commendable enough to sire young. My armor showed the carvings of being Elite, gold woven into the cold gray metal I wore during the hunt.

_"__Ugly…you are too."_ It was difficult to say some words without lips and, once more, she laughed until her breath was wheezing.

"You are funny, predator. I cannot judge what is ugly and what is not." Looking at the simple shift I had put over her naked body she narrowed her eyes at me and nodded slowly to herself, confirming something it seemed. When not hunting or sparring my kind preferred only to wear loincloths while oomans seemed content to cover everything up, taking no pride in their bodies.

"You speak our tongue well." I knew that the facility I had raided was medical, of some sort, and it pained me to think that one of my hunt brothers had been captured by oomans.

Tortured.

Mutilated.

"I have a talent at mimicry."

I had been talking but I assumed that, since oomans were a game species, none were intelligent enough to understand me.

"You are not ooman…" I circled the table, clicking my tusks as I did, and, in contrast to my tone, she closed her eyes and relaxed. "…nor are you a registered species. Hybrid." I spat the word and her eyes remained closed before my wrist computer beeped, a message.

_Entering Clan docking space. Welcome, Ti'Kon Hunter Brother._

"You have a funny name…" A giggle came from the Hybrid and I ignored it, once more staring at my clipped claw.

"Contact Elder Yr'Sme that I have information and request his presence immediately." Docking now at the clan ship I put a hard meat shock collar around her throat, shackling her hands and I knew if I didn't keep her at a knife point she would strike. Glancing at her I smiled beneath my mask. "And you have no name."


	2. Temper, Temper

To have lived as long as I have was impressive, five hundred years of success, but to the Elders I was still a pup, a rebellious one at that. Perhaps this Hybrid would be enough to pacify their rage at my last incident with the oomans and their backwater ship which I detonated a bit too close to the Clan ship. Childish, dangerous, insubordinate they called me and sent me on hunting mission after hunting mission to retrieve trophies to prove I was not becoming dull in my skills.

"What is _that_?" One of the Elders, whom I preferred not to name, recoiled at the sight of my Hybrid and I shoved her to her knees. Strangely docile, with my hand gripping the back of her neck in ownership, she only stared with that rapid glance at the inside of the meeting room.

"A Hybrid, Elder. I acquired it from an ooman craft that I was hunting. I took the liberty to upload its biochemistry to the Clan network for further study."

"Is it ooman bred?"

"Partially. It has elements in it that, with my equipment, I cannot identify. I suggest —"

"Your claw, Ti'Kon."

"Bitten off, Elder, by the Hybrid." Our claws were extensions of our finger bones and biting one off was a notable feat of strength.

"Bitten…off?"

"Yes." Her lips turned up at the corners and Yr'Sme lifted her chin with a long ornate claw, examining the three pupils in each flaming eye. Running the claw down her throat to the neckline of the shift the Elder lifted his eyebrows in disgust and curiosity.

"It is female?"

"From what I can tell, yes." Pressure against my stomach and she was leaning back against me; the feeling not at all unpleasant, her eyes glancing up at me as she smiled again. Too late to restrain her, she high kicked Elder Yr'Sme with her heel crashing into his lower jaw.

"Don't touch the merchandise, fugly." Her voice was crisp, clear and locking her in my arms she did not struggle, relaxing against me. The Elder roaring in pain. "You're not as cute as Ti'Kon."

"Insolent little —" While I restrained her the other warriors bristled, snarling in fury at her actions.

"No. Let's give it a fighting chance." Touching his bleeding jaw Yr'Sme bared his teeth in a snarl and we mirrored his expression. "Pick a pup of yours to eradicate it, Ti'Kon. We'll dissect it afterwards."

"Stupid, Hybrid, very stupid." I chose one of my elder sons; she did not deserve to be killed by a female, to end this thing's life. She laughed at me, tapping a long claw on the grating, the noise bubbling to my senses.

"When I kill your offspring…will you finally take me on a proper date?" Was it arrogance or perhaps something else but her talk of 'date' did not make sense to me so I ignored it.

"I have told him to make your death quick. Consider it an honor."

Once in the open arena she looked very small compared to my nearly full grown son who, in his adolescent intrigue, studied her and her strange anatomy. Sniffing the air she crouched down and rocked forward onto the pads of her feet, seeming to be not the least bit worried of her execution, staring at my son. I had trained the pup myself, much to his mothers' approval; he had much potential and he crouched, spreading his arms wide — mandibles flaring — and bellowed. The age old challenge.

Mimicking his stance, it wasn't altogether bad form either, I was only slightly shocked when she bellowed back at him, playing his voice back to the click. Chuffing in amusement they began to circle — unarmed combat was highly revered in my culture — he made the move by lunging at her, testing. As a warrior it was unwise to lunge at a charging opponent yet she escaped his crushing embrace by vaulting head over heels over him, landing on her feet in the challenge stance.

Mimicking his voice to bellow at him, the grin on her lips was taunting and she began to circle him in the same way he had circled her. It did not appear that she had any formal combat training but her blocks, parries and strikes were of significant skill, especially since they were an imitation of my own blows.

Roars, snarls from the audience drove my son to frenzy which, I believe, was his own undoing. A true warrior never loses control, even for a second. It was fair, upsetting, but fair when she gutted him with her left sickle toe claw. Sporting minor lacerations and bruising on her legs, which she used mostly for blocking, but the fact that she lived silenced us. Crouching over my son she sniffed his still dreads, lifting a hand like a feline to clean her bloody claws.

"Fuck." I knew the Elders were fuming at this display of nonchalance over a fallen warrior. My fury was replaced by curiosity; I had underestimated this creature.

"I will take full responsibility for its welfare, Elder." Stepping into the arena she did not bristle at my approach, a droning purr sounding from her chest as she cleaned herself.

"That one was yours, yeah?"

"Indeed. Come, Hybrid." I checked myself from saying ooman and, as I put my hand on the back of her neck, I pondered if it had a real name.

"You owe me a date."


	3. Questions and Answers

**Sorry this one is rather long. Had to sort it out :D**

My quarters of my ship were small, a bathing room and a bedroom that was linked to the armory. I noticed how her gaze lingered there as I showed her a small area in the common room that she would use as a sleeping area. Touching the bruises on my arms and chest, bruises I had received from the furious mother of my dead son and calmly received too, I decided that after bathing I would retire.

A single sleep cycle passed before I woke once more, something warm and soft pressed against my side. How she had gotten into my sealed quarters was unclear but, curled up on _my _bed like she was a life mate, I seized her by that soft throat.

"How did you enter my quarters, Hybrid?"

She stared at me, once more unfazed by my colossal hand squeezing her throat, her expression unreadable. "I opened the door and walked in."

"You…"

"I have a talent for mimicry," she repeated and grinned, baring those teeth and it was difficult to say whether she was being snide or simply factual.

"Then why are you in _my_ bed?" I had never shared my bed with anyone before; beds were for sleeping and nothing else.

"Cold." Such a simple word, the pitiful look in her eyes reminded me of a pup that was pleading with its mother. It was true that our body temperature ran far hotter than that of a human and it seemed that, despite the decently warm atmosphere in the ship, the Hybrid was still chilled.

"Cold." I let go of her throat and growled under my breath, the smooth skin of her arms and legs pebbling from cold. Falling back onto the furs of my bed I groaned, turning on my side with my back towards her as I grumbled. "For one night only."

"Thank you." It was a whisper and it made me uncomfortable to feel her pressed against my back, as if trying to absorb my heat directly from my skin. Physical intimacy was common among my kin but this small, seemingly delicate individual was too different and too similar for me to truly sleep. When I woke once more she had cocooned herself into the furs. A lulling purr filling my quarters as I slid off the bed, changing into a new loin clothe and heading to bathe.

Nourishment.

What did she eat?

Oomans were, generally, omnivorous like myself but it had been said that some humans refused to eat meat or plant matter.

Strange little things.

Once I set an array of fruits, vegetables and meats on the large table in the kitchen the task of waking my new pet could be troublesome. Wiggling like a pup would in sleep I decided to wait until the scent of food drew her out rather than get bitten if I roused her now.

Patience paid off quite handsomely because within moments she crept into the kitchen with a curious expression on her round face. Hopping up on a stool across from me she looked at the bounty of food before her then at me, eyes blank.

"Edible?" Picking up a particularly sweet fruit she rolled it between her fingers before taking a large bite out of it, peel and all while I watched. Chewing rapidly the fruit was consumed quickly and she reached for a piece of dried meat, sniffing it before licking the dry material with a long, soft looking pink tongue.

_"__Jerky." _

What is 'jerky'?

What that meant I was unsure and simply waited for her to find her preferences, noting her reaction to each flavor. Inhaling the scent of a delicious slice of meat she wrinkled her nose and cast it away, a look of disgust marring her features. To my surprise she took a liking to nearly all the fruits and vegetables yet only one or two of the meats I had set out.

For such a small creature she could eat as much, if not more, than I while retaining none of the lethargic, unguarded habits that humans had while they ate.

"No meat?"

"No meat."

"Interesting." I chuffed, setting the meat back in the freezer and placing more fresh fruit out for her to enjoy.

"Why?" So many questions she asked, looking up at me with unblinking eyes that were neither human nor anything I had seen before.

"Biochemistry structure is predatory, aggressive behavior but you disdain meat. Interesting."

Chewing on the pulpy center of a _naxa_ fruit she regarded me the same way that my kin regarded humans: indifferent, mildly amused but mostly bored. Not breaking eye contact, which meant one of two things to my kind, she was either challenging me to a duel or trying to entice me to mate. The former was not happening, I could not hurt my charge, yet the latter was unacceptable because it was _disgusting_. Simply…_wrong_.

"Why does your skin change color like that?"

A question that pulled me from my thoughts, I relished the distraction and leaned on the counter, pondering how to explain my own biology.

"Oomans use their faces to express emotion, yes? We use coloration; it is a translation of our mood visually but most things of this matter are picked up through scent. Compared to us, oomans have the sense of smell of a chair or a rug."

Instead of asking about the comparison she wrinkled her brow in thought. "What's a 'ooman'?"

"What you are crossed with."

"A human?"

"Ooman, yes."

"A _human_."

"Ooman."

Scowling, there was no mirth in her eyes however, she leaned back and took another bite out of the _naxa_ while continuing to stare at me.

"You are impossible."

"Touché." I chuckled, the sound alone made her perk up in alarm before realizing that it came from me and she smiled. I had learned that smiles were gestures of trust, friendship even yet they could be paired with dishonorable intentions as well.

"So…" Reaching for another fruit, one pale pink in color much like her white hands, she paused and I waited for her to speak. "When are we going on that date, big guy?"

"Date." A fruit or an ooman way of setting a deadline for an event? Either way I was confused. Take her to a giant fruit? "What is 'date'?"

"A romantic outing."

I blinked.

"You know…a time when a couple gets to know each other? Spend time together?"

"Ah." I nodded, leaning on my elbows as I trilled slightly. Why didn't she say so? "Sex."

All color left her face as I said that, lips forming a pale, rigid line as her chest quivered as if suppressing a cough. But it was laughter and I bristled, a low growl building in my throat because, if anything, I would not tolerate being laughed at.

"Oh my god…are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Is that _all_ that happens when males and females of your kind get together?"

"That or fighting."

"You're serious."

"I am. Why do you keep asking that?"

"It's an expression of shock. So…just sex? No romance? No…dates?"

"No need. Reproduction is the only reason to mate." To have it any other way was ridiculous and a waste of valuable energy but, in the case of life mates, mating for pleasure wasn't unheard of.

"You, your kind I mean, are…polygamous?"

"Yes." From what I understood humans worked in the opposite way, staying with the same partner or having no partners at all.

"So…the trophies…those are like peacock feathers?"

"Feathers?" Last I checked I did not sport any sort of feathers.

"Ways of showing off skill and stuff, right?"

Quick learner, this Hybrid.

"Trophies impress females. Increases the likelihood of being chosen to mate." Like many species females of my species chose who, when and where they would mate with and trophies greatly increased the chance of being chosen. Even if the mating itself was violent, painful even on the male's part, the ability to father pups and tame a female long enough to mate with her was highly respected. I had no role in raising my pups, all of whom had different mothers, until they became old enough to hunt.

Then it was my responsibility to teach them how to hunt and the rest, our culture, our morals, were taught by the mother. Females were revered to my kind, as they should be because they gave life; trade, politics and war were controlled by the High Matron. They normally had little to do with us males aside from mate and observe the training we bestowed on their pups.

The Hybrid's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "How many offspring do you have?"  
"Twenty three." A soft sound, a gasp I believe, drew my attention and she stared at me with a bewildered expression.

"Wow."

"Wuhoww."

"Expression of shock." Clarifying that, she went back to picking apart another fruit, once more eating the peel, sucking the juice off her skinny fingers.

"Why do you eat the peel?"

"Tastes good." Perhaps this had something to do with whatever she was crossed with. Focused on her snack she spoke in a light tone. "What does your name mean?"

"Fifth born."

"That isn't very fun."

"Names are not meant to be…fun." I had kept my pup name for the sheer purpose of showing my strength since I was the only surviving pup of my eleven siblings.

"Yeah…I guess."

"You were not named, were you?"

"They only called me by my project name, the company who created me, I mean." When I trilled in question she turned up a corner of her fleshy lips, glancing up at me. "Project Sevag, specimen twelve."

"Sevag." Indeed the term was familiar, humans and their corporations, but meant very little to me at the moment. "It has no meaning, does it?"

"It is an old word from an extinct human language. 'Black eye'."

"As in the injury?"

"I don't know." A clipped, angry tone that would have startled me if I had not been prepared for her mercurial mood modifications. Standing, she dropped the squished fruit onto the counter, shaking her hand free of the sticky fluid, before her gaze darted all over the kitchen. "Exercise?"

"You are bored."

"Duh."

I cocked my head to the side at the sound, repeating it and shaking my head in dismissal; it was trivial.

"Come." If she wanted to relieve her pent up energy she would have to follow me to the training room, large enough to move freely and fluidly into warrior pose.

"It's a room."

I chuffed, shaking my dreads over one shoulder, before I touched my personal computer at my wrist to activate the weapon caches. Any weapon of her choice, combi-staff to circle blades and plasma casters, it was my personal training room.

"Holy shit."

I impressed her, something that made my chest puff out slightly, I gestured with a hand to pick her preference. Frowning now she stared at me.

"Why?"

"Fight." At the word her face went sour though I saw no reason as to why she would be adverse to it.

"No."

Irritated at how she seemed to take pride in her defiance, I broke into a crouch and spread my arms to bellow at her. Just as she had at my deceased son, so willingly gutting him, now she flinched back from my display of aggression.

"_No."_ Even I knew that ooman word, one that drew a deep growl from my chest. Shrinking away from me her teeth were bared in a hostile show while her body curled in on itself, trying to become small almost.

"Why no." It wasn't a question anymore. It was a demand.

"I don't want to fight unless I _have_ to."

"Duel. This is a training exercise."

"_No."_ As I advanced on her she retreated until her back was flat against the wall, Sevag was showing no signs of wishing to duel with me. Shaking her head, a voice that was small in contrast to my growl. "Stop it, Ti'Kon."

How elegantly she said my name. It made me pause, a hint of pleading at the end while I debated whether or not to press her. This was very different than the oomans I had observed during my life time, each one bristling for confrontation; she had no interest in battle unless she was threatened.

How annoying.

But at the touch of my palm around her throat she relaxed. Such contact appeared soothing to her, Sevag's eyes still weary though. Running the pad of my finger along the base of her skull I was once more reminded of a tiresome task that must occur before we could leave the clanship.

"Rest." Releasing her I ushered her out of the training room, watching her prance towards the kitchen now, my own objective to do a routine maintenance check of my ship. It was a relief to have my mind on something that wasn't the Hybrid, the confusing Hybrid. I lingered as long as I could before returning to my quarters.

Even if I had specifically told her that she was not allowed to sleep in my bed Sevag was curled up amongst the furs, lost almost in the large fur dress I had given her to cover her form. Perhaps I would go to a weaver and have the dress modified to a more maneuverable and less bulky garment. Laying on the far side of the bed away from her sleep was difficult when she turned, almost _snuggling_ against me like I was her mate.

What in the High Matron's name…?

Carefully removing her arm from around my waist, her hand a little too close to my loincloth for my comfort, it was many long moments before I could sleep.

Damned Hybrid.


	4. Trust Or, Rather, the Lack of Trust

"Why do we have to go to the clan ship?" In a tantrum worthy of a vexed pup she had attached herself to the side of the bed, inching away from me.

"I have things to do."

"_Yeah, but why?"_ Now she slipped back into her native tongue, one that I had difficulty speaking sometimes, a high pitch entering her tone. A sign of panic.

"_Sevag. No harm. I promise."_ Putting a hand over my two hearts, a gesture of trust and promise, she only peered at me warily over a fur before sliding out towards my outstretched hand.

"_Okay_. Just_ cuz_ you promised, all right?" Having such faith in me made me swell visibly, it pleased me greatly that she accepted my actions and followed me willingly.

"'Cuuzzz'?"

"Because."

Pausing, I stopped her with a hand on the back of her neck and now she had to listen to me for her own safety.

"Submit, Sevag. Be respectful."

"Gotcha. Cross my heart and hope to die." Making an X over her heart I stared at her in horror, it took a moment for her to decipher my expression. Only then did she stammer to explain. "Oh, no! It means 'I promise', it's an —"

"Expression." I finished, nodding and I hid my shock at such a statement behind indifference; it befuddled me that humans would have such disgusting expressions.

The Healer was wiping the back of her skull with a swab to clean the skin before the implant was placed in. She took lying on the table very well, after I explained that the Healer was going to check if she was healthy. I began to relax as she took the Healer's examinations with ease. Only until he took out the implant, a tiny speck smaller than an ooman child's small finger nail, and the drill did she become stiff as a pole under my hands.

I had never seen such an expression before, one of blind terror and fury, her kick caught the Healer in the face and tore one of his mandibles clean from his jaw. Shrieking in horror, thrashing as I restrained her and, even in his damaged state, the Healer was able inject the implant. It was a tracking device. I did not know if she was prone to wander, something all pets were given whether they wandered or not, but I did not wish to wait and find out.

Putting her under finally caused her body to still, the frantic pants slowing to leisurely, even breaths, the Healer cursing as he touched his face.

"I found the origins of the unknown strain, Ti'Kon,"

"Well? What is it?" I was curious to know just what sort of creature was bred genetically with an ooman to create Sevag.

"Bioraptors from TL-1121."

"How did the oomans procure one?" Bioraptors? Herbivorous creatures that were not too different from my own species, a species known for it mimicry and wicked sickle claws, mostly arboreal with a high fight or flight instinct.

Skittish.

"I do not know." The Healer shrugged, stitching the severed mandible back onto his jaw, so I turned my attention to the unconscious Sevag.

"Any supplements you would suggest?"

"Sulfur, for there is very little on the planet biorapters thrive on, she will require it to keep her scales strong."

"Like us."

"A weekly bath of sulfur powder will do. Return her to me if she begins pulling out her own scales."

Once I had returned her to my pallet on my ship, as I was eager to leave the clan ship before the Elders caught me, it never truly occurred to me that she would be distressed when she woke. Like humans we also had a phrase that, despite our cultural and physical differences, was known by every male of our species.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Of course, to us, there is no such thing as hell except as a curse and nothing more. Perhaps it was my superior size that made me arrogant enough to believe I would be protected from such fury, this would not be true with our females, yet she proved me wrong once more.

_"__You lying, cheating bastard!"_ That was my greeting when I entered my chambers, barely dodging the chair she hurled at me as she ranted. Pure rage, which caused the spines on her back and skull to stand erect, the furs I kept on my bed were shredded to ruins. The metal interior of my chambers was covered with deep scratches and dents, most of the chairs ripped apart, but what bothered me most was the destruction of the furs.

They were soft and I had liked them.

_"__Sevag. No harm. Calm."_

_"'__Calm'? 'Calm'? You stuck something in my skull, god damn it, how dare you tell me to be calm!" _Evading my hands she kept the table between us, I could forgive many things but the desecration of my sleeping pallet was hard to forgive. _"'No harm'? I _trusted_ you and you _lied _to me, Ti'Kon!"_

I growled my own locks bristling at the accusation. "I did not lie you."

_"__You said you would _protect_ me. _Liar. Fraud. Monster." Spitting each word at me, the venom mounting in each snarl, she backed away from me as I lunged across the table to snare her arm. What I had not expected was for her to bite me, my luminescent blood staining her mouth, just hard enough to make me let go. Retreating farther and farther back, her voice soft but just as vicious.

_"__Don't you touch me. Don't you dare touch me…you're just like them. No — you're worse than the humans."_ Back up on the bed, back to the corner, her knees pulled to her chest and liquid was leaking from her eyes at each word. Her voice had lost its anger but was only replaced by something worse, something my species despised: betrayal. The action with the liquid was called crying, from what I knew of humans, it only occurred during times of great pain or distress.

_"__Sevag."_ I reached for her, my hands pausing just above the skin of her arms when she recoiled from me, flinching back in what could only be fear.

How to comfort a creature that loathes your touch?


	5. Authors NoteSuggestions

**Hey guys...thinking of dropping Art of Hunting because my muse isn't working for this one. **

**Who am I kidding? I can never drop a story until it's done!**

**But seriously...might not be an update for a while til I find that finicky bitchy muse of mine...**

**Thanks for supporting me! :D**


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